ShuffleLupAGus

Today's Pre-Independence Shuffle (Still looking for a pattern):

1. Def Leppard - Lady Strange
A less production Def Leppard is a good one

2. Sondre Lerche - On and Off Again
Faces Down is really one of the better albums ever created

3. Fu Manchu - Regal Begal
I used to live across a place called the Regal Bagel. I don't think they got the Three's Company reference

4. Party Ben - Insane, Medicated Hand (MashUp)
Queens of the Stone Age and Trent Reznor collaborating before they really did. Prophetic

5. Public Enemy - Bring the Noise
"Farakhans a prophet and I think you ought to listen to..." In the bible of hip-hop forever. I dream of the day that Chuck D storms into the Flavor of Love House with an S1W and pulls Flavor Flav out of there on the quest to regain street cred

6. Ted Leo - Me and Mia (Acoustic)
Shouldn't it be Mia and I? Suppose it would change the flow of the song, though

7. Switch - JDeville from Huckoff
Umm. I'm actually playing guitar on this one. Joel from Force Seven is also on there. So...

8. Joe Jackson - Introduction
It's just Joe Jackson introducing the band on Live in Amsterdam. Kind of unnecessary

9. Pinback - Concrete Seconds (demo)
Still waiting for Pinback to make a mistake. They are very very good

10. Goldfrapp - Human (Calexico Mix)
Had never heard this before. That's why shuffling is fun

11. Iron Maiden - Phantom of the Opera
Pre-Bruce Maiden. I used to be adverse to it, but I kinda like it now. It's more Ren Fairey, though

12. Ozzy Osbourne - Crazy Train
Did hip-hop samples and the NFL kill this song? I think it's clinging on to relevance

13. Wilco - The Late Greats (Live)
The new band that Tweedy put together is almost Steely Danish in their musical virtuosity. Steely Danish. HAHAHAHAHA! Sounds like a shitty pastry

14. Led Zeppelin - The Lemon Song
I broke down and put most of the Zep discography on my iPod the other day. They can't be denied

15. The Bravery - Tyrant
The Bravery is so much better than the Killers that it hurts to think about

16. Camu Tao - Plot for a Little
Def Jux in the house. RIP 6/6/77 - 5/25/08

17. The Dresden Dolls - Backstabber
Almost vaudevillian at times, but for some reason I like them. It seems like Amanda Palmer has something to say when she sings. I guess it's called "Dark Cabaret"

18. Built To Spill - In the Morning
I seem to be playing catch-up with this band because I missed them the first time around

19. Jim Noir - What U Gonna Do
He writes songs to sell Target products, Adidas and also makes you feel like you are in a children's television show when you listen to it. Amazingly calming like rays of sunshine in the morning

20. Frank Black - Llano Del Rio
One of the coolest shows I ever saw was Frank Black at a local community center. It was intimate. Watch LoudQUIETLoud

21. Neil Diamond - Beautiful Noise
Worst keyboard patch ever. It sounds like a digitized clarinet in a bucket of cherry Kool-Aid filled with pollywogs. Also, does a hand in a glove really make anyone feel good?

22. Franz Ferdinand - Do you Want To (Max Tundra Remix)
Holy fuck. This song just made me take my shirt off and put on gold lame short shorts and start dancing around in my office with pride. They almost lift the keyboards from Jump, but with the sheet music flipped upside down

23.Dangerous Toys - Ten Boots
Wow. This is kind of embarrassing. Quintessential hair metal. Saw them play with LA Guns

24. Ozzy Osbourne - No Bone Movies (Tribute Version)
It's about porn movies. The story is that Ozzy and Randy saw some weird porno and wrote about it

25. The Clash - Complete Control
Never got into The Clash like I should've, but they were really good. you hear them in so much of the music of today

26. M. Ward - Transfiguration #1
M.Ward never ceases to send me to a weird, good place. He writes the soundtrack to a bike ride in Bidwell Park after one too many beers when you are alarmingly aware that you only have four cigarettes in your pocket and no lighter. Those are your only worries at the time. Nothing else. Nothing

27. Ratatat - Party & Bullshit (Biggie Smalls)
This is better than the original. A straight-up barbecue banger. If your head doesn't nod when this is on, you may be dead or have a bad case of honky pox and need a Soul Vaccination. Get it free. Soul vaccinations will be covered by your insurance provider for the price of your regular co-pay

28. Run DMC - Runs House
Fuck! This song is still so sick. From the pantheon of hip-hop. This is the blueprint

29. Cowboy Junkies - Dead Flowers
A far superior Stones cover when compared to Wild Horses by anyone. I'll lay down the challenge to amke an interesting cover of Wild Horses to anyone. It's mislabeled as Townes Van Zandt on my iPod in my attempted assemblage of the Big lebowski Soundtrack. Whoops

30. John Waite - Missing You
This is on a GTA Vice City Compilation, but I have two fuckin' words for you: "Bad English." Journey and John Waite? SUPERGROUP!

31. The Decemberists - Grace Cathedral Hill
Literock. Not Lite Rock. Every song seems to tell a story. This song is so fucking sincere and so San Francisco. This band creates discussions between people. Hmmm. Maybe literarirock makes more sense

32. Donovan - Living for the Love Light in Your Eyes
No person is above getting their Donovan on. This dude was on some different shit, man. Nowhere and everywhere at once

33. Goldfrapp - Lovely 2 C U
Wow. That's a contrast to Donovan. I think it's the low-end of this band that draws me in. Remove the lyrics and just leave the bass line and the kick and the snare and I would be just fine

34. Neko Case - The Tigers Have Spoken
Her voice is so powerful it makes me want to either weep or melt like a Nazi looking into The Ark. If you are local to the Bay Area, this song should evoke a recent incident at the SF Zoo

35. Sonny Rollins - Misterioso
Maybe not the Heavyweight Champion, but the dude's still alive and is deserving of a postage stamp for what he gave to music. Will the US ever appreciate jazz as much as Europe? No

36. Queensryche - The Chase
How can you do a duet with Ronnie James Dio (RJD) and still get me to skip the song? I wanted Mindcrime II to be so fucking epic, but it was more disappointing than Spiderman 3. Duet with RJD!

37.The Avalanches - Tomas Bangalter - Turbo
Own whatever you can find by The Avalanches. They are super obscure, but really really incredible. I can't stress this enough. The coolest blend of samples to create something new since Paul's Boutique. If you like Girl Talk and Audiobytes for Autobots, you will love this. This is one of the original samples from When I Met You

38. Faith No More - Introduce Yourself
Pre-Mike Patton Faith No More. Goddamn, they made the Bay Area proud

39. The Mars Volta - CJ Pt III
One day someone will be able to figure this band out. As Sparta start to sound like U2, these dudes just keep pushin' the envelope. Engaging, disturbing, improverish...Just an amazing energy and always fresh on the ears amongst a monotonous soundscape of shit

40. Air - Dark Messages
This is probably some of the best poolside music you will ever listen to

41. Muse - Piano Thing
They are kind of Rush. Kind of prog. Kind of Radiohead. They are awesome. Should anyone ever fucking wear socks and flip-flops into the workplace?!?!?! Where the fuck am I? A Jimmy Buffet parking lot? I'm leaving early todday because of that. That's so fucking wrong

42. Gary Jules - Dtla
Just received this album recently. It's good. I pray at night that Gary Jules will replace Randy Newman as the unofficial musical ambassador of Los Angeles. If you mashed Gary Jules and Steve Erickson's brain together, I don't know what you would have, but it would be some brilliant tribute to Los Angeles with references to local shit that only the most LA of LA people would get

43. The Mars Volta - Cassandra Gemini III
Well, TMV has officially infiltrated the algorithm for the shuffle function on my iPod. I'm calling bullshit on the randomization. My iPod has a fucking agenda

44. Elliot Smith - Son of Sam
I started questioning everything in life the day I related to Elliot Smith songs. He was taken away way too early, but at least he is probably finally at peace. Him and Leonard Cohen telling each other to cheer up is something funny to think about. He got spotty sometimes, but there is no denying his brilliance and it's a fucking shame that he will never get a postage stamp

45. Ozzy Osbourne - Secret Loser
Ozzy has 3 out of 46 at this point? There are 9,000 songs in my iPod. this is not random. William Gibson is going to write a short story someday about the subversive marketing of Apple augmenting their shuffle to prioritize artists who pay to come up more in the shuffle function. Just like who-ogle?

46. Nikka Costa - Nothing
This song is kinda weak, but Everybody Got Their Something is a fuckin' jam

47. Spoon - I Summon You (Alternate Version)
A stripped down version of the album version that puts more emphasis on the vocal. Still pretty strong

48. Whitesnake - Give Me All Your Love
Hairmetal needs to write a retraction for lack of respect for the keyboard player because there was more keyboard tracking on the album versions of hair metal than a Thomas Dolby album or Switched on Bach by Walter/Wendy Carlos

49. Elvis Presley - Hot Dog
His 50s shit was so good. Diners and shitty bands named after car parts that play in public parks have kinda destroyed and cheesefied this type of rock, but the deep cuts still stand up

50. That 1 Guy - Dig
Mike Silverman is on wikipedia. That's fuckin' great. I still drunk dial him every so often. He's one of my own personal idols that I can't even aspire to aspire to. I (heart) him

51. Buckethead - Bloodless
A handful of people will see this association. That 1 Guy tours with Buckethead and the shuffle function played them back-to-back. I'm officially getting the gang together and calling bullshit on random. There is no such thing. I realized this when staring at a Keno screen in a bar looking for patterns. There is always a pattern. Always. Also, Buckethead is fucking rad. Where Satriani is otherworldy, Buckethead is in your trash can and he's snuck into your house to put your cat in the blender and leave a note written on Disneyland Hotel stationary. Sleep easy

52. Lovage: Music to Make Love to Your Old Lady By - Sex (I'm A)
A cover that stands on its own aside from the original and extremely erotic. It almost makes you forget about Mike Patton peeing in his shoe and drinking it or fucking a turkey carcass at One Step Beyond back in the day. Both probably hearsay. This song turns into phone sex near the end. It's kind of cool


Fuchit. I'm going to get some poolside in.

Two Tastes

That taste great together.

Radiohead covering Portishead. That means they are better than you.

Comin' Up Hughge.

Crap. I've been listening to too much Mr. Big in the last 48 hours. Too much being two spins of Lean Into It, 75% of a spin through Mr. Big, and one spin through that tribute album, plus two listens to the King's X cover. Was King's X good? I knew they were kind of god rock, but the guitar tone is good enough to eat.

Speaking of guitar good enough to eat, Paul Gilbert is the shit. Alternate picking, string-skipping badass. I had the prototype of his signature model guitar as my first real guitar (post-B.C. Rich Warlock). It was an Ibanez RG770 with a pearl sharktooth inlay (not that lame blue) and is becoming increasingly rare and expensive and just makes that fact that it was stolen a little bit harder to deal with. It even had my name airbrushed on it and a bunch of reflectors from the hardware store, but it played any style like a motherfucker just like Paul Gilbert. How suiting?

So, beyond that, I have a story.

About three years ago, I used to commute to work with my roommate at the time. We'll call it an extreme roommate in the eyes of the law. God, the eyes of the law, lately. I feel like Al Capone or Tupac when I see a cop now. I'm afraid to visit my own dad for fear of being arrested. Anyway, back to the roommate commuter. We would go to this Starbucks when I forgot to make coffee in the morning and there was this lady that was like meth crazy at 6:45 in the morning. It always made us wonder how someone could be that with it that early in the morning. So, that's the crazy Starbucks lady.

I get divorced and move out and move closer to work. I'm doing laundry one day and the Starbucks lady is at the washer next to me. I thought it was insane. So, that was three years ago and I had to text my old roommate and let her know. Communications were a little tense around that time, so a text was all that was suitable.

On my first birthday post-separation (divorce got hung up in paperwork forever), I treated myself to a bought-from-the-coffee-shop-coffee because I was either making it at home or making it at work since my commute was now just over 7 minutes to work. I walked in and there she was. So, that was two years ago.

I started going to the Starbucks on Sunday mornings and getting my crossword puzzle on for a while and getting back into the bought coffee thing while trying to drown out their fucking music with my iPod. This, in turn, lead to treating myself to a bought coffee every once in a while on the way to work. It's the Starbucks lady's shift in the morning on weekdays.

So, she started to recognize me from the apartment complex and then one day I talked to her and her husband by the pool after about a gazillion beers. That was six months ago.

Since then, she calls me "neighbor" when I go in and pulls me out of line to make me a Venti Non-Fat Vanilla Latte which is my weekend coffee because drip is for weekdays just like underwear is.

The other day, she stopped by my apartment to see where I had been and what happened to my head and was super nice, I think. She had an accent, so I may have misunderstood everything like how a dog responds to tone when you yell at it with compliments. Wait. I might be the only person that does that, but anyways. The other day she even left a pound of coffee hanging from my doorknob for me when I came home from work.

And the sun starts to break through the clouds with random acts of kindness from others as faith is restored in the human race. Hospitals and schools are experiencing budget cuts and layoffs as police are hiring in record numbers that only match numbers used to measure foreclosures in Stockton, but on my end, things are looking pretty good.

On top of everything, I got a temporary paper license to drive until my hearing date in August per my attorney and even found an old expired drivers license in my coffee table the other night so I have photo ID now.

I got a new book and some new music from D, who reads this blog.

I bought a new coffee grinder and some new really kickass underwear.

And my hair is growing back superfast.

To sum it up: Shit is finally comin' up Hughge. Yooge.

Have a safe weekend and trust me, take a cab. Handcuffs hurt.

Iron(y) Man

Over the past couple of weeks, I've been working on a new logo for one of our departments. It's mostly just for letterhead and business cards and crap, but they brought it to me a couple of Fridays ago because they didn't like the logo that the outside contractor did. The girl from across the street called me and said "I heard that you had a logo program and could change our current logo."

I replied "Yeah, it's kind of like that. It's called Photoshop. Did you need help with a graphic of some sort?"

She brought over the designs that the firm did and I lifted the fonts and prepared a mock up for her to manipulate and change that resembled the one that the firm did. Since then, we've been through ten to fifteen versions of the logo. Fonts and colors being changed a lot. I think I nailed it for them this morning, though.

The silly part about the whole thing beyond them taking it to the database guy is that it's the reorged eco department that needs the logo and I've developed a recycling-neutral lifestyle. The woman I'm doing the work for at this point, understands that, but we don't let it get in the way of the work on the logo.

I think I'm totally becoming agnostic towards recycling. I'm not down on it, but I'm not fist in the air about it. Like everything else, it is what it is. If you put a bin in front of me, I'll throw my recycling in there. I also recycle at home, however, get all weird about it and tell me to recycle a post-it and I'll want to kick you in the fuckin' teeth. Like your god, please keep your recycling and anti-smoking PSAs to your fuckin' self.

Days of Yore

I'll admit that I get trapped in the closet sometimes with my hair metal past. I was really craving the bad ass riff at the beginning of 'Green Tinted Sixties Mind" by Mr. Big, so I bought Lean Into It from the cyber cutout bin known as eBay for a dollar. Shipping was $2.95, but all together not that bad. The solo section of "Addicted to that Rush" is also nothing to be scoffed at. Dude, fuckin' Billy Sheehan and Paul Gilbert shredding with Makita drills? At the time it was mind blowing. Eddie Van halen had held one up to his Peavey guitar with Van Hagar, but no one was using it to just fucking shred riffs like that. Is Poundcake not like the shittiest song ever? A fuckin' travesty, man. Listen to Poundcake and then put on Panama and see how you feel. The difference is just paramount.

So the reason for the post is that I came across this album called "Influences & Connections, Vol.1: Mr. Big." It's some kind of tribute album from 2003, I guess. It's got some motherfuckers on there, though. The King's X cover is kind of awesome. Then, you have John Waite, Paul Rodgers from Bad Company and Free, and Richie Kotzen taking responsibility for the songs with guest spots from everyone. Stevie Salas, Matt Sorum, Marty Friedman, Steve Lukather, and Yngwie just to name a few. Those are some deep cut dudes right there. Anyway, the album can only be described as interesting, but it lead me to this record label in Italy that put this album out and uh, did you ever wonder whatever happened to the dudes from Circus magazine in the early 90s? They are in fuckin' Italy.

The label is Frontier records. They are keepin' the dream alive for dudes in El Caminos all over the world. If you are a man of useless music knowledge like myself, flipping through their releases will jar some memories. It's like a giant dollar bin, but with current releases in it. Umm, maybe you've heard of a band called White lion, but have you heard of a band called Tramp's White Lion? There are also solo albums by Mike Tramp from White Lion. There are Journey albums, Richie Kotzen, Toto, Great White, Halford, Night Ranger, Dokken, Kingdom Come...It's like a giant compilation of Day on the Greens from the days of yore. Like the yore of "Yore too young to go to an all day concert with dudes smoking reefer in tank tops while Kingdom Come jams out the hits at the Oakland Coliseum."

StSanders Shreds

Oh my god. Finally, they are all in one place. This is so fucking rad.

StSanders Shreds

I just saw the Iron Maiden one for the first time and nearly peed myself in the good way.




Seriously, watch them all. It's so great.

2Dot0h

Ummm. So, I've got a huge bruise on my forearm from a disgruntled phlebotomist. Apparently, you should not comment on their sweatpants while you are cuffed to a bench at 2:00 AM. For instance, don't say "Nice sweatpants" before they take your blood. On the subject of the blood, I still don't know what my BAC level was the night of my arrest, but I think my attorney will find out when it is available. I'm also still trying to get scheduled for my mug shot and prints. Swear to god that if I get a copy, it's going up on my Facebook.

Anyway, I haven't drank since the arrest and have let certain parties that often throw a beer in front of me that I've stopped drinking for personal reasons and I'll let them know when I'm ready for them to throw free drinks in front of me again. It just makes it easier that way. I spent Friday night in a bar with my soccer team and drank a few waters and a strange thing happened being sober. Here are my reviews:

Attractive Jaeger Girl 1: "I'm about to leave, but I just wanted to let you know that you are one of the nicest and charming people that I've ever met."

New girl on soccer team (Overheard): "He (me) was really funny last time I met him, but a little obnoxious. This time he was still funny, but really personable and he remembered my name."

The other new girl on soccer team who is super hot in a being super smart way: "Jesus, dude. You are on fire."

So, Jaeger Girl 1 was just doing her job, but she actually did lock down with her other Jaeger friend where I was sitting with my team and they talked to me for like a half hour about whatever. One worked "in the motorcycle industry" and just moved here from Minnesota. I'm guessing she got pictures of her taken on top of them. The other was in school to become a therapist and started to dig a little deep into some areas after a few stories of debauchery and malcontent. She also had a kickball game the next morning. On their way out, they were nice enough to give shirts to the team, which I thought was a very nice gesture after they took offense to me turning down any of their tchotkes. I'd kinda be spectical of it if I was tipping them, but it seemed pretty genuine.

New girls on soccer team are good people and met me when I showed up shithoused to my team's game last week. I wasn't playing because I'm currently on the disabled list. The team, does however, like to get my keepersense input on what the other team is doing and what we need to do to win games, but I kind of let them down at this game when I showed up three sheets and just drew penises on the clipboard that we draw out plays on. I found it very entertaining at the time, but I was kind of a one man show that night with a one man fan in the audience. Anyway, new girls on soccer team seem to have preferred Jauge 2.0.

To be completely honest, I'm starting to prefer this version, too. Yeah, it's only been like four days and I won't believe I've changed until after at least a month, but so far the results are coming back pretty good. I might be into this. I'll admit, it gets kinda weird when the brain starts to spin a little fast and you want to stop it, but I've learned to channel that into productive endeavors or to just chill the fuck out and lay down and close my eyes and relax. Or, read a book. Or, eat licorice. Or, anything, really.

The New Deal

The new mantra popped into my head last night when a wave of ponderings started assaulting my docile brain. Watching Million Dollar Password makes you docile. It's this: When life gives you misdemeanors, make misdemeanorade. Seriously, when you encounter something like this, it's a good mantra.

Yesterday, I got a nice referral to a lawyer and he was awesome enough to get me in for an almost immediate consultation on my situation. He was a pretty rad guy and really helped alleviate some of the stress of the situation. It's not that I want to fight it. I did it. I'll take the responsibility, but the paperwork is a hassle and I'm afraid that I would miss the crossing of a T or the heart above an I and exacerbate my situation. So, he took all my paperwork and told me not to worry about it and I gave him a credit card and we called it a deal. It's now an $1800 Tuesday night of karaoke and bad judgement. That number will rise, but it is what it is. Plus, I got a free Diet Coke at the law office.

It's weird today, though. It's a Friday and I'm thinking about what to do tonight and it feels like having demons waiting outside your door. I'm going dry, so all of my go-to things to do have been altered significantly. In AA, it was a feeling of fear of these demons. AA also taught you that if you did not follow the herd mentality and were left to your own devices you were fucked and they would get you. I'm here to tell you that it's all going to be okay. The demons are just apparitions of fear created by your mind. If you learn to understand what they are, they are no different than a pint of ice cream at the grocery store when you are feeling fat. You've just got to learn to live with them. I don't want to drink tonight, but the social interaction sounds nice, but it's not real social interaction. It's a bunch of people that are dealing with the same demons and choose to drown them rather than live with them. I'm almost better off spending some time with myself and catching up with work or reading something to make me smarter.

So, taking it in stride on this lovely smoke filled Friday and looking forward to a night of relaxing and guilt free safety. I'm waiting for this attitude to change, but there has seriously been some kind of chemical rearrangement that went on in my brain over the last couple of days and the square pegs are actually starting to fit into the round holes. Yeah, it shouldn't work, but it does for some reason. It's actually an overall feeling of contentment that occurred when being handcuffed knocked down all of those walls that were preventing me from moving forward the last three years. It feels really nice. So far. I won't believe myself for a month or two, but that's the goal.

D U Why?

So, they finally got me last night. The unarrestable (me) was cuffed to a bench in a police station last night and had to call in a favor from his dad to stay out of county jail for the night.

I deserved it. There were many times where I was far worse than I was last night when I made an ill advised right hand turn across railroad tracks as the barriers were coming down and got pulled over, but I still deserved it eventually.

It went like this: they pulled me over in front of a Jack In The Box with a drive thru full of real drunks. They gave me a field sobriety test that I was just killing. The eyes? Always look two ticks to the right or left and your eyes don't track. Dad taught me that. They made me do the ten steps in each direction and I made nineteen of them and stumbled on the twentieth. At that point, I looked at the very nice police officer and just simply said "you win, dude." After that, I was cuffed and thrown in the back of a squad car after requesting to give a blood test rather than breath. Pro tip. It was my best chance at taking any kind of edge off.

So, they drove me back to the police station and as they walked me through to a bench to cuff me to, I let them know that they really deserved a better police station because theirs was in City Hall and they needed their own space. So, they cuff me to a bench while the bald cop is writing the report and the young cop looks at me and says "You seriously have golf clubs and a skateboard in your trunk?"

I replied, "Yeah. You never know if you need to bust a rail slide or just slice it into the woods on the 14th hole, man."

So, they got the phlebotomist there in her sweat pants and I gave blood hoping for the best. I kept telling them that the cuffs were really uneccasary as they had clearly won the match and I would take responsibility for what I had done. I felt and still feel awful about the whole thing. The thing is this: Would I have felt bad had I not been caught? That really is the question. I think getting caught can turn into a relatively expensive, but productive lesson. I may have needed this kick in the pants. Don't, for a second think I'm laughing about this. I may join AA again just to prove to myself, friends and family that I'm trying. That my hearts in the right place.

So, anyway, they go "Would you like to make a phone call?" and I go "Yeah. I got one for ya."

I called my dad. He's a lieutenant in a different county. My stepmom answered and I asked for my dad. I never call him except for Father's Day, Christmas and his birthday so she knew something was up. So I go "Dad, I got a deuce tonight. I don't really know what to do." He simply replied "Let me talk to one of them."

I looked at the young cop and said "My dad wants to talk to you."

He looked at me like I was crazy as I handed the phone to him, but he also looked curious about what I was pulling at that point. After a series of yeahs, uh-huhs, nos and sure that won't be a problems, he looked at me and said "Good news. You're not going to county tonight. Now call someone to get you out of here."

I called my best friend in the world and his phone went to voice mail. So I did the next best thing and called his fiance who was next to him in bed. She answered and handed the phone to him. You know that feeling of shame you got when you were eight and you knocked over the birthday cake for your sister face down on the kitchen floor? The look that your mom gave you is the same one that I felt as his eyes burned into me at the moment. Outside of parental units, he's all that I've got for living up to. For being responsible. For not fucking up. He's known me since before I fucked up. When we both possessed the innocence of youth. When debauchery was stealing a smoke from your mom and smoking it in a weird alley on the way home from Junior High while you pounded Slurpees. It hurts bad. You get a look like a beat dog, but it's good. Everybody needs someone to keep them in check and keep them...well...good. Being that I have no one in an intimate way like that, which used to work a bit, it's the best I've got. So, as he reads this I'm saying thank you. A non-real friend wouldn't give a fuck and would simply watch his friend crash and burn. People need to be called on shit or they would run rampant.

So, they picked me up and got me home safely, which at the the time was like ice water on a hot day. It's just better than anything in the world at some times. I woke up this morning and took a verbal beating from my sister. She's back on the campaign that I need therapy and pills so that this shit doesn't happen anymore. She's almost got me convinced that she's right, but it somehow feels like giving up, but when measured against being cuffed to a bench, it may not be that bad. Being stuck at home in a Zoloft delusion could work for me, but I'm scared that I would know that my feelings weren't real. I already struggle with their realities as it is.

After the beating, I took a shower and rode my bike to the hospital to get my staples removed. It wasn't bad at all. Took some PTO on my Blackjack and then went to the police station to get my release for my vehicle. I know a ton of people had had this happen, but fuck me if the shame doesn't coat the top quarter inch of your skin. It sucks.

Then, I did what I do and talked to an ex-girlfriend, an ex-wife and another sister to just try and stabilize my head as it's spinning today. You kind of need to just accept and not fight it. It happens. It's okay. It's going to be $1700 and a restricted license for six months. If anything, it forces me to go green and ride my bike a bit more. So, if anything, I did my part for the environment. Also, according to my ex-wife, my bike is way cooler than my car anyway.

So, Whoomp. There it is.

Rub Her Bandwidth Me

I've been spending a lot of time liberating TV shows and movies lately from inside the InterWeb. I've also noticed that my Internet Service Provider, we will call them BombCast, has got to have been throttling me. I have to keep on resetting my modem and router by unplugging them for 30 seconds and replugging them in about twice a day. As soon as I open my client, my bandwidth degrades to NetZero speeds and I ping the Cnet Bandwidth Meter Speed Test and see these apalling bandwidth speeds that I'm being given. Now, to be fair, it could be a bad modem, but the trigger is opening the client and it will haul serious ass for a little bit and then get down to like 4 bytes per second, which is outrageous.

The good news is that I'm getting stuff through and have spent some time watching some movies and TV shows on my Xbox, which is like the coolest thing ever. Here's a list of stuff:

In Bruges - A really cool movie in the vein of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrells and Snatch. Dude goes on the lam to Bruges, Belgium after he accidentally kills a kid. Violent hilarity ensues.

Eastern Promises - Viggo Mortenson fighting two dudes in a sauna with his junk out and Naomi Watts getting smothered in a role that could barely be called supporting. She's still super hot, though. Double crossing organized crime drama. Pretty good. By the way, Viggo makes albums with Buckethead. Super random.

Teeth - Holy fuck on a popsicle stick. This movie was the most god awful twenty minutes or so of my life. It was almost as bad as Spiderman 3 until it got so horrible it was brilliant. It's about a naive girl with Vagina Dentata. I was all in after the gynecologist visit. The dude is on the ground missing four fingers yelling "It's real. It's real. Vagina Dentata is real." This is destined to be a cult classic just based on the severed penises alone. She sleeps with dudes and then they say something stupid and her face kind of clinches up and then the dude starts screaming and then a severed penis falls on the floor. I microwaved a hot dog and dropped it on my kitchen floor shortly after watching this and nearly ruptured my spleen laughing so hard. This movie has got to be the result of a late-night-coke-bender bet or an elaborate and expensive inside joke.

Dexter (Season One) - This show is great. I watched the whole first season last weekend. It's about a serial killer that works in blood spatter forensics for the Miami police department. Like a vampire with a heart of gold, he fills his cravings by taking a page from the book of The A-Team and only serially kills people that deserve it. There is also an arcing story that takes place through each episode, so you've got to just kind of watch the whole thing. You also start to see him develop feeling, which really messes with his party and also why he is the way he is. It's a really cool show that I totally missed. Now, I will be pertinent again in party conversation and not have to talk about Lost and time-loop theory, which can get pretty heady.

I also grabbed The Onion Movie, which was the second coming of Amazon Womeen on the Moon and some other stuff that isn't worth mentioning, I guess.

Oh, that aluminum can of dog shit Life on Mars (American Version). The original was one of the best shows I've ever seen. It was fresh. The acting was brilliant. John Simm and Philip Glenister cannot possibly be imitated or even approached to be imitated in their roles. The subtlety was perfectly executed while still leaving some type of work to the viewer. Even the filming of it seemed perfect. Then, the American version plays out like the SNL sketch, Caveman Lawyer. The entertainment industry thinks that their audience is eating paste and choking on Crayolas. Yes, they may be right, but come on.

That's all for now. Staples out on Wednesday followed by one of the most awesome showers ever. Look for the evite. It's going to be a pretty special shampooing. That word sounds gross. Shampooing. It sounds like faking number two so you can go through someone's medicine cabinet. Like "Oh, I was shampooing at my new girlfriend's house while I looked to see if she had any Amoxicillin in her medicine cabinet." Sorry for the dick and fart humor there.

We Shall Not Forget

Rhythm of the Night by El Debarge really was the poor man's All Night Long meets Rhythm is Going to Get You, but watch this and you won't be able to shake the melody for hours. You'll find yourself whistling it in front of strangers.

They just played it during The Last Dragon this morning. If your higher power shines down upon you and you get a chance to watch this movie at your leisure, look for a young William H. Macy and Chazz Palminteri. Brilliant. Also, check out how solid the soundtrack is. It's just ridiculous. They got Willie Hutch, who wrote The Mack soundtrack, to write two "glow" specific songs to help push the plot through. It's called fuckin' montage music, dude. Throw in El Debarge and some Rockwell and you've pretty much put together a time capsule of 1985 jams that would later be danced to by your parents in a Black angus in 1991. They even got some Stevie on there. Holy snap.

Here's the final fight scene of Bruce Leroy vs. Sho'nuff.

Let's Make a Deal

An employer in Michigan is firing smokers from his company. He, in fact, extended the ban to spouses. Here's the article from the sfgate.

So, I'll keep it short. I'll quit smoking if they ban fat people in public parks, movie theaters, bars, enclosed places, apartments, restaurants...Basically, take all the smoking laws and replace smoking with being fat even if it's hereditary or glandular and start taxing fucking fast food. That's my carrot and stick approach. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, but in the meantime, I want to scratch your fuckin' eyes out for being a d-bag.

Here are more articles on him. Luckily, he is not fat or I would have just fucking lost it and booked a flight to Michigan to teepee his fuckin' house.

Ungauzed

I got it off. Here's the whole scar gash:

Undressed

So, I just took my bandages off and looked at the back of my head for the first time. I was going to change the dressing, but then couldn't get this piece of gauze off. It's a work in progress. Sadly, it's more fucked up than I thought. Might I add that I'm way into hats for a while?

Here it is:

Drained My Main Vain

So, I've been quiet for a while. I may have overreacted to the whole diagnosis thing and I actually was convinced I had cancer for a few days. I think it came from watching too much House. You've got to watch out for that. I also started self-loathing and felt that I somehow deserved to have it. No one should ever feel like that and I was way in the wrong for that.

Anyway, the subscribers got a bonus feed from a meltdown the other night, but that's been about it. I had some explaining to do after that and inadvertently sent a shot across the bow of some friends that really care about me and felt like an insufferable asshole the next day. The silver lining: I know what's wrong and it took my little routine diagnosis to throw a match in that powder keg and make what bothers me the most and triggers small episodes pretty hard to miss.

That lining is I get lonely sometimes. Some of those times are extremely painful. I feel like I have no family, no friends, no colleagues, no nothing. Sadly it's all me and they are all kind of staring me in the face, but I almost want to be lonely. Let me know if you have ever felt this way? You desperately want to be alone and then after three hours you wish you had someone there with you and realize that you could have someone with you, but in all honesty, you want someone specific there whether they be fictitious, known or someone you haven't even met yet? If it's not any of those three types, you just want to be desperately lonely again. It's the recipe for a downward, self-loathing cycle.

So, that's what I've got to knock out as my next step from mental adolescence to becoming some type of adult. There are methods to this that skitter on the edge of being productive, accepting, and self-satisfaction. It doesn't take pills, Jesus, or self-delusion to get there, either. It just takes self. That's my two cents.

Now, the reason for the e-absence or i-absence if you are on a Mac. By the way, on a sidenote, in most workplaces where PCs are primarily used, the guy who uses a Mac to stand out and be different is the vegetarian at your BBQ. While I would love to use a Mac and marvel at the style and usability of the device, if you need to run a report at work and have to fire up Parallels or VMWare to do it, you are doing it wrong. You are just getting in the way. And, if I hear one complaint about it like you think you are that Drew Barrymore dating douche from the adverts, I will scowl at you. If you are not in graphic design or music, at the end of the day, both systems are going to get most of your work done even if there is a CTRL+ALT+DELETE in there somewhere. Everything will be fine. After work, I'll jam my Dell D830 in a manila envelope and we can all be amazed. Remember. Point A to Point B is all that really matters when it's all said and done. I don't give a fuck how you got there. Just get there.

So, e-absence, post-tangent. I had a little surgery done. On the sheet it said reextract benign tissue from scalp and add flap using existing skin. When I read that, I did not feel real good about the surgery. Nobody wants a flap. I kind of just put my hand above a furrowed brow that sat below a freshly shaven head and checked that box that said I had no one to pull the plug if anything went wrong. That's a creepy box to check. I hadn't eaten or, more importantly, had any coffee in the last 12 hours and was not super fired up about putting on the booties and a shower cap again. I was however, fired up in putting this behind me.

I found out right before I went in that it had gotten to my mom via my sister's boss who happens to me married to my mom's sister. He found out why my sister was leaving work early and like a 38-to-1 upset at the Belmont Stakes, that news was off and running. The whole family knew before I was under a beautiful general anesthetic. That was awesome. I remember how the dude was talking to me and then I started slurring and then I was out. It felt like a typical Thursday night. I was built for this shit.

I woke up a few hours later and didn't remember anything and started to gather my bearings. I was starving and dehydrated and saw something in my peripheral vision that was attached to my head. I was told I would have a drain, but I thought it would be like a stadium pal and hidden beneath the gauze wrap that they had reapplied. By the way, this was the motherfucker of all gauze wraps compared to the pinner one they gave me last time. I can't pop my ears out of it and they are starting to hurt so I've had to use some of the Vicodin.

So, what I saw was a tube that ran from inside the wrap to a compressed ball that blood was dripping into. I kind of put two and two together and realized it was mine. The fuckin' thing just kind of hangs there and after multiple safety pins and readjustments, I've had to put it in a bandanna, Bret Michaels style. It's horrible. A beanie cannot hide this and I'm on straight lockdown after the neighbor's kid nearly cried when he saw me. Also, pro tip right here, if you can see your own blood dripping into any type of container, skip the lasagna.

I've been home a while and can't figure out how to sleep with this bag attached to my head. Plus, the head wrap does not mesh well with the weather. Thank god, I shaved my head. I suspect there is going to be some bic-ery when I get the wrap off on Friday. May have to go Bruce Willis style with it.

That's what I've got for now. I'm assuming that I dodged a major cancer bullet and should feel extremely fortunate for this chance that I've been given. Yeah, it fucking hurts, but ass, gas, or grass, no one rides for free. I'll just be happy when this is all over and do my best to be appreciative of all of the great assets and friends that I possess. This shit should be hard-wired into people, but I have to admit that sometimes I think I may be the King of TakeItForGrantedistan. So, just so you know; I'm aware of it. Most likely, I'm sorry as well. I'm eating some crow lately. Hopefully, it will be better from here on out.

New Dreaded Phone Conversation To Avoid

There are a few phone calls that I wouldn't recommend ever receiving.

1. The "I'm Pregnant" phone call.
2. The "I'm leaving you" phone call.
3. The "Your pathology report came back and you have a benign tumor" phone call. That's the new one.

Finally, popping my tumor cherry.

Thank god for wikipedia. So, the definition is that it does not satisfy the three conditions of cancer. That is, it does not metastasize, it does not grow at an alarming rate and it does not attack surrounding tissue. What it does mean, though, is that they want to go back in to retrieve more tissue from my head. It means I'm going to be wrapped uncomfortably in gauze. It means that I'm going to miss even more soccer. It means now is not the time to quit smoking. It means my hair will be fucked up again.

I should know better than to keep on talking to anyone except for one person who calls me by the name on my driver's license. I should have just hung up as soon as the guy on the other line used that name.

Basically, it's a call that I would recommend you avoid. The fucked up thing is that I've told a couple of people and am not going to tell my mom because she's going to freak out if my sister's reaction can be used as a belweather of how she'll act. I won't tell my mom, but I'll post it to the Supermation Inforhighway. Jeezus. Happy Friday.

New Scrabble Words

In case you were curious, this is what is in my hair right now:
-Water
-Lanolin Wax
-Cetearyl Alcohol
-PVP
-Tribehenin
-Glycerin
-Tridecyl Stearate
-Alcohol Denat.
-Dipentaerythrityl Hexacaprylate/Hexacaprate
-PEG-8 Beeswax
-Ceteareth-25
-Tridecyl Trimelliate,
-PEG-40 Castor Oil
-Acrylates/C10-30 Alkyl Acrylate Crosspolymer
-Triethanolamine
-Tetrasodium EDTA
-Phenoxyethanol
-Potassium Sorbate
-Benzyl Benzoate
-Hexyl Cinnamal
-Hydroxyisohexyl 3-Cyclohexene Carboxaldehyde
-Eugenol
-Linalool
-Fragrance

I don't even know how they fit all that into a tiny canister and also I can't vouch for the legality of these words in Scrabble. Some of them may be proper nouns. Beyond the water and the wax, the list is a bit frightening.

Pro Tip #42A Article 27 Subsection 45

Don't go into work on a Tuesday morning and skip coffee and then out of the blue decide to Google "Hobo Clowns." You will find things like a Clown Ministry. They sell fucking shirts that say "God Made Clowns Just For Laughs." The ironic thing about the shirt is that it's not funny...AT ALL. It should say "God made Clowns to Frighten Children. Oh, and also to kill you while you sleep." I'm afraid to dig any deeper into that site after checking out the clown history, but go ahead and knock yourself out. There is a tutorial for budding clowning enthusiasts and future Megan's Law website members.

Megan's Law invented social networking. It grouped people by location and hobbies. The registration process is a little more rigid than other social networking websites, though. It's not really one that you want to actively try to be a part of.

We used to play a game at work where we looked up each other's last names and addresses on Fridays and then the unthinkable happened. We found someone who we worked with on the site. It was put away very quickly and the game was never played again. It was like a bad Ouija board session at a slumber party or finding glamour shots of your mom when you are looking for old porn underneath your parents' bed. It's traumatic.

Oh shit. Here is a link to clowns for hire. My question after looking at this is Would you ever hire a clown without seeing what it looked like? Again, clown of faith ministry mention. I've really missed some type of religious phenomenon, haven't I? I was already freaked out enough by Willie "Buddy From Charles in Charge" Aames becoming BibleMan and then Kirk "Mike Seaver" Cameron championing the rapturelicious Left Behind series. Spreading the word of the lord in grease paint just doesn't sound very awesome at all. It really makes name tags and ten speeds look a little more appetizing.

Seriously, how can these horny for rapture religious people even come close to speaking out against militant Muslims that will sacrifice themselves for their religous cause? They basically have the same beliefs in lands of personal milk and honey (virgins vs. relatives?) just non-Muslims want someone else to do it for them. The commonality exists in the fact that they are not enjoying their current life and are more interested in something better when this all ends. Listening to my grandmother talk these days is seriously what you would imagine a suicide bomber talking about at his sister's fifteenth birthday. Just nonchalant end of the world type of shit, but in a way that is looking forward to it. She is absolutely convinced that the end is near and everything will be better when her and her Mormon faithfuls go to Mormon Heaven. It actually is a little scary. Speaking of scary, back to clowns.

Oh my god. Surprise someone by putting this makeup on and hiding in the backseat of their car. Or, even better, jump out of their closet when they get home from work. Give someone the gift of peeing themselves in fear as a hobo clown surprises them.

Okay, dude. What the fucking fuck is this?!?!? Stop Clown Porn Now Dot Org. I didn't even read it. I just kind of stared at it and I'm really hoping it is some kind of inside joke that came about after like a hundred beers on a camping trip. Oh my god. It's just a joke. I seriously would not put it past some fuckin' retards in the MidWest of recognizing clowns in pornography as the reasons that their kids are obese and banding together behind the cause. The meetings would be at a buffet as they strategize how to stop clown porn related child obesity while their children put fucking chocolate sauce and frozen yogurt on their fried chicken nachos and chase it down with a deep fried milkshake. From above, the meeting would look like a bingo armed octopus.

As a sick and twisted side note. I've seen a clown in porn. It's disturbing. It's in Michael Ninn's New Wave Hookers V and was "borrowed" about three years ago by a friend. Nobody ever borrows porn and gives it back to you. Pro tip.

Friday Night Update

Rule #456: Never partake in the consumption of cocktails with HughVoltage unless you are a seasoned veteran.

Since Friday night, I've gotten a pizza and played GTA IV all day on Saturday and took a break to watch "Good Luck, Chuck" at the behest of my neighbor that told me that I would love it. He was unaware of my deep seated resistance to Dane Cook. To be honest, it wasn't that bad. There were a lot of boobs in it for some reason and when supported with a cast, Dane Cook is not that bad. Perhaps, it is the way people describe him as like the white Richard Pryor. He's not entirely that awesome.

So, chase that with a Sunday at the parents' house with a soda tooth from too much Diet Coke while fulfilling the duties of being an uncle by playing with my niece and nephew, and you can call it a weekend.

Now, this morning, my neighbor came over and gave me the update. He told me that one of the dudes, not The Dave, got beat up by the cops and put in jail after I told him that I was going to the bathroom and split because it was obviously a bad idea to still be interacting with the public at that point.

Apparently, he told the cab driver that he only had twelve dollars, but would pay him when they got to the destination. This got lost in translation and the cabbie flagged down a cop driving by. Some vodka fueled resistance took place, one would imagine, and cut to him in the back of a cop car trying to kick out the window on the way to one of the beatings of his life. That's a hell of a birthday. Apparently, he is sporting a wicked shiner and a decent laceration down the side of his head, but still says he had a good time.

Now, as for The Dave, I've still got his credit card and he can't get a hold of me because he lost his cell phone. On top of that, as of today, he still hasn't been able to locate his car. Poor The Dave.

I have to feel a tiny bit guilty as my weekend has been severely uneventful since I snuck out of the bar from birthday boy, however, most people know what they are doing when we are imbibing. You must have an exit strategy in a situation like that.

So, as I sit here and admire my clean bathroom counter top and try to dissuade myself from vacuuming, I can't help but pour out a little coffee for my homies putting their lives back together after having drinks with the harbinger of discord.

Quote of the day...yesterday

Neigbor: "Let me give you some fatherly advice, Hugh. Don't ever take a Viagra and eat a Big Mac"

Me: "Dude, I've been on Niagra to stop spontaneous erections for the last two years and have never eaten a Big Mac in my life. It shouldn't be a problem. By the way, nice gay stalker jacket."

The Dave

The night kinda began with a text that read "I do it for the blog."

I know. What it do? I went home from work early and got to 40% completion on GTA IV. My neighbor walked by and said "Dude, I'm going to happy hour at The Cheesecake Factory in an hour. You should go." I thought to myself that that sounded like getting drunk at Applebee's and then decided that it at the very least sounded interesting.

So, I went. We hung out with a guy that was having a birthday and works at my neighbor's gym and his buddy Dave. I got in a book argument with a guy reading Ken Follett and wrote down things on a bar napkin that could make his life more interesting including Palahniuk's book "Survivor." We left when we were hammered at like 8:00 PM.

We were out front and half of us wanted to go buy a jazz record. I told them to go ahead, but I get The Dave. The Dave had turned into a bargaining chip. He was wasted and would laugh at anything. He was a perfect sidekick. I grabbed The Dave and went to another bar with him. Got more fucked up. I bumped into a girl that made out with my date one night. Love her. The guy she was with just constantly said "Where do I know you from?" over and over and over. So, anyway, myself and that girl are having a conversation and I give The Dave my credit card and tell him to grab us some drinks. I go back to where The Dave was and he's gone.

I texted the other half of the group that was busy dropping the jazz record down a sewer and let them know that I lost The Dave. We were all devastated. As a sidenote, I woke up with an extra ATM card in my wallet and I think it is The Dave's. So, after the rest of the group minus The Dave was put back together, my neighbor snuck away and it was just me and the guy whose birthday it was. We ended up at another bar. At this point, we had no business interacting with the public. I think I even stopped drinking because I knew better and was acting as a minder because dude was disturbing some people that were larger than us.

Anyway, I woke up this morning at 8:00 AM and totally lacked a The Dave in my life. It's not like a gay thing. It's like being Morris Day and having a Jerome. Who wouldn't want something like that?

All right, I've got to go to Target and buy some sleeveless shirts for a weekend project. Did you know that a sleeveless shirt is less than a gallon of gas? Scary. I know.

By the way, Metal Mania on VH1 Classic is just killing it this morning. It's like MTV Spring Break in 1989 with a smidgen of Headbanger's Ball thrown in. Judas Priest. Poison. Maiden. Skid Row. Fifty bucks says that The Scorpions are next. Dude, if it's Big City...It's Photograph by Def Leppard. Even better. One of the best songs ever. EVAR.

Holy shit. I take everything back. They are playing the new Def Leppard video and it's a fucking Shania Twain video. What happened? What the fuck is this? Why can't I find an Interrobang on my keyboard for the ends of these sentences? Seriously. Def Leppard sounds like Young Country now. I'm going to go cry in the bath. This is just sad.

Scaranoid

I went into the bank yesterday to get my new card activated and my favorite bank teller was there greeting people as you walk in. She's absolutely beautiful and would eat me alive and needs to be avoided, but there was one thing of particular interest as I left with a new activated card. She said "Bye" and used my real first name. Not the one on all my cards, but the one that people call me. She shouldn't know it. Second time that has happened at a Wells Fargo. If anything, they have it in their customer database, but how would they know it? It's not really documented on anything official.

So, anyway, I was flattered and I still have a bank teller crush, which is so much healthier than any type of relationship at this point. It's like having a crush on Alyssa Milano on "Who's The Boss?" when you're like eight. Totally safe.

Trying Is The Step Right Before Failure

This is the shit: For Those Who Tried To Rock...

We Salute You.

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We must all pray together that Mr. X, nor Underwater Communist Basketweaving Jugband (UCBJ) does not appear on there. The UCBJ reggae album was the shit, though.

Jean Clad Van Diamond

According to the ticker on the news this morning, David Archuleta came in second on American Idol. In other news, stage dad beatings have increased Archuleta% in the last 24 hours. His relationship with his dad resembles that of a young Ike and Tina or a young Jessica, Ashlee and Joe Simpson threeway. God, that guy is gross and none of us are looking forward to the release of that sex tape.

To be honest, I absolutely lost interest in Idol this year and last year as it's becoming advanced karaoke and the songlist never changes just like karaoke at a Peppermill. It never moves forward like classic rock radio. It just sits there. Staring at you. Begging for help without saying so. Begging for help by looking at you sadly.

A discussion about Idol, however, pushed friends and I to the Neil Diamond episode that I do kind of wish that I had watched because Neil Diamond is like the Jewish Elvis. This discussion lead us down the path of Neil Diamond impersonations as a judge over beer and tacos and that lead to the idea of the karaoke mash-up.

I've done one karaoke mash-up in the past and it sounded horrible and my ex told me that she thought that I looked like I was going to have an accident while I did it. It was "Hit Me One More Time" in the style of Michael McDonald. It was physically taxing to perform and the payoff was marginal.

Now, last night when the peanut butter hit the chocolate, it was myself professing that I planned on having a dream last night of a beautiful parallel universe where Michael Jackson became a brilliant Quincy Jonesesque producer married to a white ex-actress with half white kids on The Office. That's right. Halpert's ex is The Original Dude's daughter.

In this parallel universe, Van Halen still breaks up, but they replace David Lee Roth with Neil Diamond in an unprecedented move not seen since Queen reunited with Paul Rodgers from Bad Company on vocals. What a WTF?! moment that was. Anyway, this got me to thinking about singing "Jump" by Van Halen in the style of Neil Diamond. Believe it or not, most of it worked in the shower this morning whilst I was shaving my chest. The only thing is that it's kind of so awesome that I don't want to just share it with just anyone. It'd be like cutting cheese and salami for a Saturday noontime snack with a fucking lightsaber. I want to hog it all to myself and use it for my own enjoyment. It's my karaoke supernova that shall never be shared with anyone due to sheer awesomenacity. So, yeah, the dream was like that dream that Lionel Richie has in "Say You, Say Me."


Finally, as part of the Hatebook development project, we are at work on an app that let's people that you've hooked up with add you as a mutual hatee and start a hater group devoted to you. You will never see who they are because your ID blocks you from knowing or joining. You will, however, receive a "rhating." This fuckin' thing is getting brillianter by the day. Might I add that instead of automatically getting a "Tom" as a friend like on myspace, you will automatically get Jerry O'Connel as your first hatee. Why? Because it was my idea. So, sit down or I'm going to see your O'Connel and raise you a "fiddle guy from Dave Matthews" and "Jack Johnson."

Have a wonderful day if I haven't told you to yet and by the way, you look simply stunning.
-HV

No Man Is An Island, Nor Toilet Seat.

I went out for my before bed cigarette and my neighbor was out there on vicodin and gin. We discussed him becoming involved with a second married chick. Yes, she is hot and young and has no body fat except for the 200 pounds of baggage that we call her husband, but I told him that I thought it was a bad idea and it solidifies why I would rather sit in the safety of my living room than put myself at the mercy of the throes of the feminine gender as of late.

I'm not going gay or anything in observance of legalized marriage, but I'm just staying off the grid. He then goes, "Oh fuck you, dude. You get more ass than a toilet seat." I had to break his heart a little bit and tell him that I've been ass free for over two months now and kind of enjoying it. It's part of operation: life less complicated. I'm kind of zeroing out in the good sense of the word and trying to find a nice clean slated starting point. Of course, this has been through paying for meals with exes and finding out everything that I did wrong from them, but it's relatively healthy in a learning sense. I'd especially like to get it out of the way before I take on any further ill-fated endeavors. Especially since I fell in love with a bank teller the other day. She was married and she was forgotten by the time I had left with quarters for laundry, but it was nice to feel enamorous.

So, self-induced therapy through solidarity? Maybe. Just an excuse to eat ice cream and get fat guiltlessly? Probably. Just a much needed break? Most likely.

The Mile Low Club

This Week's Media Heroes Are:
Jeffrey Paul Bradford and Adrianna Grace Connor.

"They told the officer they wanted to go do it in the woods, essentially," said Lower Swatara Township police Sgt. Richard Brandt. "That's the best answer they had."

Here's the article from sfgate. "Naked pilot, flight attendant arrested in woods"

So, it's them versus drunken Darth Vader for the best drinking story crown at this point. I heart you Naked Pilot and Flight Attendant.

Smitter Smatter

Bulletpoints from the last 48 hours.

-Carded a guy last night whose last name was "Sportsman." I wasn't going to let him in and accused him of being some kind of McLovin smartass until someone told me that they knew a guy whose last name was "Cheeseman." I let him in and was inspired to change my last name to "Fuckstache."

-Watched a guy who put on a purple plastic glove every time he came out front to smoke last night.

-Conversation:
"I don't like to buy porn unless I have a boyfriend with me. If I buy it by myself I feel creepy."

"Here is a web site. I'd hate to see you deprived of your porn habit."

That was inspired by the guy I saw at Fry's browsing porn. Browsing porn at Fry's takes balls.

-The bouncing gig is coming real close to becoming a real weekend gig. It completely flips my schedule on the weekends, but really contributes to me being a much better person. I had four beers all weekend. One before shift and one after shift. I'm actually getting quite good at it now and it saves me a shit ton of money. I think I'm starting to care for it. My respect level at the bar has increased tenfold and regulars don't look at me like "that guy" anymore. In fact, I met a lot of people that knew me or had hung out with me that I've never remembered. It was quite pleasant.

-I can wash my hair again and I'm not even wearing a hat. The gash is not handsome by any means, but it's not that bad. I need to make a hair appointment, though, because my plastic surgeon is no cosmetologist and just shaved through an essential section of my hair. It'll grow back, but in the meantime?

-The Vicodin is piling up due to nausea that prevented me from taking it. Pappy has his eye on it like a Catholic priest at an under ten boys soccer game.

-Thank you for the homage to raccooning D, it made me crack up.

-Reading "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao" by Junot Diaz. Motherfucker can write and footnote like crazy. One word so far for the book would be Vernaculous. I haven't really liked Pullitzerish books since Kavalier & Clay, but this is really good. The guy could write the warning on the side of a Tampon box and make it interesting with his choice of words.

HeadCase

Recently went and had my head cut open, which required me to have my head wrapped in gauze. It wouldn't have been so bad except for the local heat wave in combination with gauze and a beany was a little uncomfortable, but when I was bouncing last night, I swear to god this chick almost made out with me right after I let her boyfriend in. I was wearing a head wrapped in gauze covered in a beanie so she must have been on some powerful shit to do that. Plus, she was this cute little skinny blonde thing and I'm pretty sure I was way cooler than the guy she was with. That would be a pretty crappy bouncer, though, so when she got in all close and shit, I pushed her away and wished her a wonderful night. Now, why won't a cute little blonde thing like that do that at the grocery store or in line for a FroYo? That's the real fuckin' question, isn't it? So, here's the pics.

There is the basic headwrap on the first day. Seriously, it looks like Dengar from Empire. He is not the most appealing of all the bounty hunters dispatched to catch Han Solo and the gang, but in a parallel universe he became more popular than Boba Fett.


















This is your basic mimicry of how a girl wraps her hair out of the shower. I had never done it before, but it was this or a Ziploc freezer bag or even a plastic grocery bag. It worked out okay, but was rather uncomfortable, however, the stink needed to be removed.












That's the inside of the wrap. I must have spilled something on it because it is mildly stained. When I saw the stain, I was a little scared of what was on the back of my head and here it is...













That's the gash. Please excuse the hair. The surgeon was nice enough to pull the scalp down and stitch so there will be no bald spot. I'm still a little squeamish about getting it wet. The gash is a little bigger than I thought it was.











Here is a better view.

Altered States of America

Ummm, because I'm a jackass, I had a couple of beers after soccer last night on the sole grounds that I was awesome. Other people's words not mine. We even lost 2 - 0, but there was some spider monkey shit in there and I seriously blocked three shots and strained a throat muscle on one shot attempt. I have to admit that it was pretty impressive for an old man to be pulling that shit off and when a person tees up on a ball and gets anime eyes as you jump across them and stop their shot, there is no better face of disappointment.

So, anyway, to the dismay of all of those people that care about me that read this (3 people), I went to a bar that I used to drink at to drink White Russians, sing karaoke and not pay for anything. Honestly, I walked in with a wedding shirt that said "Big Mistake" and a pair of sweatpants and before I could get a drink or take a piss, I was singing "Jump" by Van Halen and doing the shoulder back step like DLR in the video. It was pretty awesome. I felt missed it had been a while.

So, anyway, Persian chick was there. It was good to see her. I'll skip all the good stuff, but by the end of the night she said this, "Fuck you, [Hugh], I hate you." I was explaining the situation to her with all the omitted details that we don't need to go over in the blog because she would not be pleased, but basically I administered some bitter medicine to a nerdcrush that she was kind of in the sights of and had no idea. How did I know? I had a crush on her for like two weeks. You can see it in the tard's eyes. So, yeah, we had it out, which seriously is when I'm the best.

So, we're having it out on the cell phone which she is not in anymore (she made a comment about that) and I look behind me when a flashlight beam hits the back of my head. No, not lost Boy Scouts, but two cops. It was okay because things were resolving and Persian chick was realizing that I was right about a few things and actually encouraged her pursuing a real relationship with a real dude who was successful and cool and tall.

Anyway, I looked at the cops and said, "You guys have nothing. I have no car, no bike and I'm really not doing anything wrong besides being kind of an asshole" and they said, "Just take it inside and have a safe night." Hands down one of the best cop and Hugh interactions of all time.

So, destroyed some relationships and recovered others. Rolled into work three hours late on the bike (not a motorcycle) and feel fucking fantabulous. I'm scared to death of going under the knife on a local anesthetic tomorrow morning, but I suppose it's going to be just like going to the dentist and my life has been fucked up enough that I find the dentist calming. So, we're good. Real good.

This Is Good To Know

Pro tip. Do not shoot kids with BB guns. I have to admit that as of late, I've been debating it as this small child army seems to be developing in front of my apartment. I came home once and one of them was waiting on my porch for my neighbor's kid to get home. He sat out there for like an hour and I felt trapped in my apartment by a ten year old.

I mean, they have their moments of brilliance with their varieties of "Why?"s that they are capable of asking. My favorite has been when the neighbor kid said "Why are you wearing glasses?" and I replied, "Trav, why are you wearing pants?" Yeah, I'm stooping to their level, but it felt better than saying that I'm wearing glasses to read the map on GTA IV. I wear glasses only to drive at night and play video games. I am a loser.

One time, the porch kid asked me if he could try my cigarette and I had to go into the anti-smoking lecture while I puffed away and drank a beer. I'd feel bad about my hypocrisy if it wasn't the keystone that holds our cultural architecture together.

So, going to switch to the Super Soaker as child repellent at the apartment and avoid the felony assault charges and $50,000 bail. That is one of the things that you think about, but never do. Shame on you San Bruno guy with a BB gun.

Momly Things

Ummm. I outdid myself for Mother's Day this year. I got my mom a Josh Ritter CD (good call D), a DVD of Camelot, and All Families Are Psychotic by Douglas Coupland. It could have gone real bad, but she seemed to have a sense of humor about it.

The inspiration to purchase her the book came at about 1:45 at a karaoke bar in the Marina. My little sister was out back on the patio crying as my mom danced with dudes and did whatever she could to mortify any type of childesque thing in the vicinity.

I just turned my back to the whole thing and tried to ignore it as cute girl after cute girl said "That's your mom?" It wasn't in a good way. It was in a way that someone would point to a dog that had just been hit by an ice cream truck and say "That's your dog?" It's really the question mark on the end of it that denotes the lack of awesome.

Anyway, I went out and comforted my sister and sent my mom away when she came out by saying "Mom, you're just going to make it worse. Go home. We'll meet you there." Total role reversal for me. I'm usually on the other end of that statement.

After my mom had left, I rallied my little sister and took her to IHOP and continued our discussion. I explained to her that sometimes you have to let your parents go or just accept them as they are, but you can't let them get to you. Yeah, it sucks to not have something matriarchal in your life. It sucks to not have a "mom." It sucks to have someone that thinks momly things are going out in the city and getting wasted and partying. Momly things should be home cooked meals, advice on life, nurturing, sewing, or some version of domestication. It shouldn't be the constant enablement and promotion of self-destruction. By the end of the conversation, we came to the concensus that she doesn't know that she's hurting you, so it's more of a manslaughter charge than a murder charge.

So, I cut out of the city at 3:00 AM and got home to safety. The next night I got a call on my cell phone, but didn't answer due to a self-sanctioned media blackout. I sometimes put those into effect when I need to recharge and just don't feel like talking to anyone. I checked the message and it was some fuckin' dude named Marty or Randy or something and he goes "J...Hugh, that's a really funny message. I'm hanging out with your mom in the city and I can't wait to meet you."

Uh, what the fuck, guy?! I'm getting drunk dialed by randoms that are with my mom? It's bad enough when you get drunk dialed by your mom, but by dudes she's with? Yeah, I hope I meet that fuckin' guy and the whole time I'm going to call him fuckin' dad and tell him how happy I am that I'm going to have a new daddy. I will come out and actually say that I would rather watch an ex-girlfriend make out with a dude than have to hear about my mom's dates. Scratch that. I would rather watch a sex tape of an ex and her boyfriend than hear about my mom's dates.

So, yes, she is a person. Yes, she should be able to date people. Yes, she should observe the don't ask, don't tell policy that all parents should live by. This whole thing just makes me feel five years old. I have mutual funds and track my budget in Quicken. I shouldn't feel five. I have a Darth Vader mask in the closet and a stormtrooper holding my toothbrush. Maybe I should feel five.

Word Up!

I'm not saying you should do this, but what an awesome prank if you can get into someone else's computer. It's cruel, but awesome. Here is the procedure from Computer Pranks Central.
Microsoft Word Prank.

Anytime the user hits the key that you assign, their Word will exit without saving. I recommend the number 5 or the backslash, so that they don't know for weeks.

AntiSocial Networking (Part3)

More brainstorming last night on HateBook and AntiSocial networking in general. Revenue generation would come from targeted advertising based on what people don't like. If the user dislikes Microsoft, you throw up banner ads for Apple products or Linux, if you want to go there. Let me see, if you hate to read, throw up some ads for People Magazine and Wheel of Fortune and Dane Cook albums.

Also, web three-dot-oh is all about "DisconnectWorking." It's where you use other people's dislikes to remind you of stuff that you don't like. You may have left something off your list, you never know. There are also the Influencers (marketing term) that you could just trust in their dislikes as yours because you trust their disjudgement.

The thing is, fuck all this eco, sustainability, live forever bullshit. Fuck all this everything is fine and everything's going to be okay. Have you read a fucking newspaper? Have you picked your head up and looked around? Take your iPod headphones out and just listen for a second.

Any cup that is half full is still half empty and wipe the fucking smile off your face and at least acknowledge it. I'm not promoting the development of a negative, toxic personality. I'm just saying that you should at least be introduced to that other side that you are trained from the point of being a child to ignore and suppress. Acknowledge it and know that it is there. Learn from it. Promote change from within by understanding the feelings and in turn quelling them.

It happens. You hate things. At the bare minimum, if you say you hate nothing, you may hate hate. Now, some people refrain from using the word hate as it does come across as pretty harsh, but then again some people misuse hate to say they dislike things like, "I hate carrots." Who could hate carrots? Anyway, it's a two-way street. It's a misused word and it just got dirtier with the popularity and prolific use of the word "HateCrime" in modern media.

Also, if you are not getting the satire part of this, I can help you.

When The Babysitter's Drunk, Bad Things Happen

So, I'm officialier a doorman now. I wouldn't say that it's one of my jobs, but I get asked to do it. I guess it's more of a bouncing, ID checking, freelancer. I got asked to work next Friday and Saturday and agreed, even though I'm going to have just had my head cut open by a surgeon the previous day. Luckily, when used without alcohol, Vicodin actually helps the situation. In addition, when people tell me that I should have my head examined, I can tell them that I have. Dad Joke. Nobody says that anyone should have their head examined outside of Bugs Bunny cartoons.

There are some things that you have to do to work the door because if you lose control of the situation, shit can get real weird. So, the first thing you need is a chain wallet. All doormen have chain wallets. It's usually a good idea to wear some kind of boot, too. Add a scowling look of disinterest, a jacket with a lot of pockets and a beanie and you are ready. You can also add a MagLight if you think you are a baller, but you usually come off as compensating for something. Oh shit. This outfit would also work if you were a dockworker. Also, how awesome would nunchucks made out of two MagLights be? It would be like a truly attainable lightsaber.

Now, for etiquette, there are some rules, it's not 'Nam. NEVER play games on your phone while you sit there. Even when it's slow. There is tons of shit to look at when you sit out in front of a bar for four hours. It's like being homeless without the beard and the smell and the crazy talk.

Being me, I try and scan the street, as I know at least four people for sure that would find pleasure in shivving me from behind. Plus, just checking shit out can be entertaining sometimes. If nobody wants to cause you physical harm, you aren't trying hard enough. Live by that, but do not find pleasure in other's misfortunes. It's a slippery slope that leads to a thin and fuzzy grey line.

You should also never drink. It can get real sloppy. When the babysitter's drunk, bad things happen. Babies drown in paint buckets with an inch of standing water in them like in the picture on the side of the bucket. Kids asphyxiate themselves with plastic bags on their heads like in the picture on the plastic bag. People spill hot coffee in their laps. That's right. All of those warnings are on the side of products and in instruction manuals because a babysitter got drunk. Learn from it.

You need to remember to feign interest in inane drunk stories even if they are being told by the unattractive set. That's the hard part. Lameness, lack of wit, and general uninterestingness can be overlooked briefly for good hair, nice rack and the like, but add a butterfly breast tattoo, a sagging tank top and a muffin top and it's a real challenge. You are earning your money at that point.

Here's the conversation:
"Oh I can't believe you need to see my ID. I could be your mother."

"Uhh. You could never be my mother with that jail tattoo of a butterfly on your boob. It just wouldn't happen. Plus, if you were my mother, I suspect I wouldn't have lived to see the age of 17 with what I assume are your stellar parenting skills mixed with excellent judgement."

So, if all goes well at the plastic surgeon, I won't look like the Elephant Man the day after my surgery and can cover up the affected area with a toque. Also, really banking on the moustache implant taking and not rejecting. It should work because the moustache donor and I have the same moustache type. Also, keeping the tail as it is part of my personality. If my head is wrapped in gauze and I bounce, I guarantee you that there will be an ass kicking of me that night while I yell "I'm not an animal. I'm a man." It's too easy of a target. Please, Jebus, don't make me a target.

Peninsulation

Just in the last two hours, I have witnessed a guy drive a fucking full size garbage truck to his car in the parking lot to get his lunch or something. It caused me to be late to lunch and then he almost hit me. It was n'awesome.

I also just saw a dude washing his hair in the bathroom sink and a guy brushing his teeth in the break room. This all happened at work and I give up. You win, oh invisible mocking entity that preys upon me for some type of enjoyment or schadenfreude. I'll update my resume and start making an escape plan.

They (the collective they) say that above all else, enjoy what you do. I do. It's the where I do it that I kind of have a problem with. Making out with Scarlet Johanwhatever would be totally cool, but on a movie theater floor? I don't think so. Unless it was with two Scarlett Johanwhatevers. Then, it would totally be worth it. So what if you get gum in your hair. Get some ice and a hammer and that will come right out. Also, if it was the first date, I wouldn't recommend any type of penetration. Just straight making out can be super awesome if you try real hard. It's a forgotten art.

I thoroughly enjoy what I do. It's like doing Sudokus and crossword puzzles all days on good days. You get to please others and impress others by solving intricate problems wrapped in puzzles and smothered by enigmas. There are Eureka! moments. There is overcoming adversity. It really is quite brilliant in those glimpses of stimulating work environments with bright individuals.

On other days, it feels like being the coordinator for a juvenile hall field trip to the knife museum. Okay, fuck it, I'll say it. It's like being the grand marshall of a Special Olympics parade. And all that good karma just washes away down the sewer drain that is my soul. Seriously, though, it's like the Land of Misfit Toys and I'll never figure out if I'm meant to break out or if I'm a fucking Misfit Toy and it's my fate to exist here with a John-In-The-Box, a small wheel, and a Tackle Me Elmo.

No man is an island (of Misfit Toys), but they can definitely sneak by as a Peninsula without even trying in the right environment. Fuggit! It pays the bills for this illustrious life that I lead in the meantime. I really shouldn't care that my surroundings resemble the audience of a taping of The Price is Right and smell like old dust in a Salvation Army sometimes. Regardless, I'm blaming it for all of my problems right now and need to do something to eliminate it as a suspect of cause of malcontent.